


Echo of the Void

by MissAnnThropic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:17:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAnnThropic/pseuds/MissAnnThropic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post season 3B.  After defeating the nogitsune, Stiles takes steps to ensure the demon fox can never possess him again.  When things don’t go according to plan, Scott calls Derek to come try and calm Stiles down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo of the Void

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This fic was not what I set out to write, but then the Muse had other ideas. The Muse is the one running this show, and I am but a servant to her whims.
> 
> General Warning: I will not tag to your satisfaction. I think tagging is out of control, and I will not tag a fic to the point of spoiling what happens in a fic. I’m an old-school reader who believes the story should be able to surprise you. If that’s a deal-breaker for you, turn back now.
> 
> Cross-posting: I do not consent to have my fics posted to other websites (such a Goodreads) by anyone besides myself.

_“Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are.”_

*********

The moment he saw Scott’s number flash on the screen of his phone as it rattled on the coffee table, Derek’s heart began to race. By now, it was a conditioned response. The nogitsune was gone, but only barely. Not long enough for anyone to relax. To feel safe. To feel like it was really over. They all seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for the next trick to play out, for the next trap to snap closed.

A childish part of Derek didn’t want to answer the phone. If he didn’t know about it, whatever this new disaster was, then it didn’t exist. It was as effective as pulling the covers over one’s head when they heard a scary noise in the dark, but after the last month… god, Derek wanted to do just that.

Instead, he picked up the device and swiped the screen to answer the call. “What?”

“ _Stiles_ …” Scott began, anguish and stress and worry thick in his voice.

A cold fist seemed to squeeze around Derek’s chest. “What’s wrong?” Derek was imagining the possibilities. _He’s missing, he’s gone, he’s still possessed, he’s insane, he’s killing people, he’s dead._

“I… I need you to come over to his house.” A pause. “Right now.”

Derek was already standing, like a reflex. Whether autonomic reaction to an alpha’s command or a draw to go to Stiles in distress trained into him after the last few weeks, Derek wasn’t sure. Ultimately, he supposed it didn’t matter which got him on his feet and moving toward the door. That his pack needed him was enough, be it Scott or Stiles.

“What’s going on?”

“Just… I’ll explain it when you get here.”

Derek grabbed his keys. “Is he okay?”

A damning, worrying hesitation followed the question before Scott answered in a voice that was more frightened teenager than alpha werewolf. “Not really.”

Derek hung up and hurried out of the loft.

*********

When Derek got to the Stilinski house, Scott was standing out on the lawn. It was late, nearly eleven o’clock at night, but Scott looked so wound up that the hour didn’t even matter. The sheriff’s cruiser was absent, which was hardly surprising these days. John Stilinski had been picking up a lot of extra hours to try and pay for Stiles’ hospital visits and his time in Eichen House… who knew demon fox possession could be so expensive?

The fact that the sheriff wasn’t there led Derek to think this latest catastrophe, whatever it was, was only beginning to unfold. It made Derek’s stomach clench. He knew all too well how fast a bad situation could unravel into chaos.

Derek parked on the curb in front of the Stilinski residence, got out of his car, and strode toward Scott.

“Where’s Stiles?”

“He’s upstairs in his room,” the alpha responded uneasily. Distress was practically oozing from Scott’s pores, putting Derek even more on edge.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Scott shuffled his feet, looking… guilty? “He… he was still worried about the nogitsune. He was afraid it was still in him.”

A part of Derek balked at everyone’s fears being voiced. It went against the unspoken rules. They weren’t admitting doubts. They were going to believe it was really over, like that alone could make it true. “You all saw the duplicate host destroyed, the firefly sealed in mountain ash and buried back inside the nemeton.”

“I _know_ , but… Stiles just kept arguing that it’s a _trickster_. That’s what it does. It fools people. And he had a point.”

Derek hated that his instincts agreed. He hated that Scott was using the past tense. He gave Scott a scowl telling him to get to the point.

“Stiles was _fixated_ on this idea that there was still some part of the nogitsune in him. Like it was just lying dormant and eventually…” Scott fidgeted. “But there was a way to kill it. Or at least make it leave. To be sure it’s gone. Change the host.” A fresh wave of guilt spilled from Scott.

“Scott, what did you do?”

“I bit him.”

Derek blinked, stunned.

“He begged me to! He said he couldn’t live with not knowing if one day he’d become that demon again. He wanted the bite just to be sure.”

The thought was arresting. After all these years of Stiles stubbornly remaining human, turning down offers and opportunities to become a werewolf (times when it would have been so much easier for Stiles to be one of them), and the mere chance he could still be harboring a Japanese fox was enough to do it. He’d give up being human on the premise of ‘just in case’.

It spoke volumes about how much the nogitsune terrified him.

But if Scott had called Derek, something must have gone wrong. Scott sounded, smelled, and looked distraught, so something hadn’t gone according to plan.

Derek couldn’t help imagining the deadly possibilities. Stiles took the role of Paige in his mind’s eye far too vividly. A shiver went down Derek’s spine with how clearly he could see it, Stiles curled in his arms begging for a quick death instead of her. Stiles’ neck breaking in Derek’s hand instead of hers.

If Scott had asked him to come so he could do what Scott couldn’t… if he’d asked Derek to come over to put Stiles down…

“Did it not take?” Derek asked with dread. “Is he rejecting the bite?” Was Stiles in excruciating pain, were his motor functions failing one by one, was there black bile spilling from his mouth? Had he lived through the horror of the nogitsune, that living nightmare, just to die now from a failed turn? Could life be that cruel to the teen?

Derek had no doubt it could.

Scott paled. “No, but… it wasn’t like what happened to me. I bit him and he started _changing_. I mean, _right then_. It took _days_ for me, but I… he… we were in his bathroom – in case there was blood, so it’d be easy to clean up – and I bit him, and he was all doubled over because, you know, fangs through flesh fucking _hurts_ , and he looked up in the mirror and he… his eyes… they turned _blue_.” Scott whimpered like he was in physical pain. Maybe he was. Maybe his best friend’s pain was that visceral for Scott.

Derek swallowed.

Scott sounded on the verge of tears. “He saw his eyes and he freaked out. Ran to his room and locked the door and… he just… he wouldn’t let me in, and he started making these _awful sounds_ , and I…” Scott gave a defeated sigh and wiped at his face. “I didn’t want to push him. I didn’t know what I could even say to him. But I thought you might, uh…” Scott trailed as his reason for calling Derek became obvious. It hung around his neck like a god damn albatross.

Derek might be able to get through to Stiles because they both had a killer’s eyes.

Derek didn’t take a step back, but he wanted to. Of all the reasons he’d been asked to come, this was almost too much. Bond with Stiles over the fact they had both taken innocent lives? That their souls were spoiled, like fruit with rot, and their eyes were the proof?

“Please, Derek,” Scott implored, “he’s freaking out and I don’t know what to do. It’s not his fault.”

Scott might believe that, but Stiles obviously didn’t. Not if his eyes now matched Derek’s.

It was a presumptuous request for Scott to make, but Derek knew in a matter of seconds that he would do it. What else could he do?

“I don’t know if he’ll listen to me either,” Derek sighed, “but I’ll try.”

Scott sagged in visible relief. “Thank you!” It looked like it took an act of restraint for Scott not to lunge forward and hug Derek. It was strange being the recipient of Scott McCall’s ardent appreciation. The part of Derek that was a beta wanted to wallow in it.

“He’s already flipped out with me,” Scott said, “so I thought I’d stay out here and let you try by yourself. Just… call or text me if he lets you in.” Any of the werewolves could get into Stiles’ room easily, of course, but they weren’t going to force anything on him… not even themselves. He’d had too much trauma from unwanted intruders breaking down his walls. His friends wouldn’t join that list.

Derek nodded and left Scott in the yard to approach the house.

He walked in the front door and scents hit him like a punch in the face. Stress and panic and salt and Stiles but also something musky and distinctly animal-like. Derek wondered if it was the scent of Stiles as a werewolf. If that was what he would smell like from that day forward. It was strange to imagine having to relearn Stiles’ scent.

Derek was silent until he reached the second story and stood before Stiles’ door. The smells were stronger, and Derek could hear the snare drum of Stiles’ heart inside the bedroom. He was scared.

“Stiles? It’s Derek.” 

A high-pitched whimper issued from the room in answer. It sounded like raw agony in one perfectly painful sound.

“Scott called me. He told me about the bite. That he turned you.” Derek paused to collect himself. “He told me about your eyes.”

Stiles’ heart stuttered.

“Listen, I know you’re upset, but it’s okay.”

Nothing.

Derek felt ridiculous talking to a door.

“Stiles, can I come in? Please?” He rested a hand on the door, as if he could reach out to Stiles through the wood.

Stiles made another hurt noise at the request, and if Derek had only his human side to rely on it would have been nothing more than beastly whines. But Derek’s wolf understood the noise as one of assent. Stiles was part animal now, and he was appealing to that part of Derek in his distress.

Derek tried the knob and found it locked.

“Do you want to unlock the door?”

Stiles made a desperate noise that sounded like he needed Derek to come to him but couldn’t make himself budge to let him in. Like his fear and his guilt and his sorrow had him paralyzed, but that didn’t mean Stiles didn’t need Derek. The sound he made, while not a word, was still a plea.

With that nonverbal consent, Derek thought nothing of breaking the lock and easing the door open.

The stink of stress was thick in the room, deeper than any current trouble could account for. It was stress that had been soaking into the bed covers and walls and carpet for weeks. It had to be strong enough for even humans to smell it. He wondered how Stiles could still sleep in this room.

At first glance, the room looked empty. There was no sign of Stiles. His bed was unmade and his desk was strewn with papers. Tiny bits of red string dangled from the walls in odd places where the clean-up effort had not been thorough enough. A mirror lay shattered on the ground. Discarded clothing littered the floor; with the lack of Stiles visible, it might have seemed like Stiles just vanished and left his clothes behind in a heap.

The sound of panting and a rabbiting heartbeat drew Derek to the bed and pulled him to his knees. He peeked underneath (marveling that Stiles had even fit himself under the bed) and saw a dark mass in the far corner, shrouded in shadow and pinning Derek with two electric-blue eyes.

“Hey,” Derek said gently. 

Stiles stared at him, body frozen and eyes blown wide in panic.

“You want to come out from under there?”

Stiles scrambled back further into the corner, whimpering.

“All right, that’s fine… you can stay.” Considering that most newly-turned werewolves went into homicidal rages, some cowering under a bed was downright mild. Maybe Stiles just couldn’t deal with any more blood on his hands, not even as a new werewolf.

A minute of silence stretched between them where Derek waited for Stiles to start the conversation. Like he always did. It took longer than he wanted to admit for Derek to realize that this time was different and he would have to do the talking.

“You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Derek grumbled, feigning annoyance. If part of Stiles was still calm enough to notice subtle details, he would no doubt find Derek’s predicament amusing. “Fine, but no making fun of me. You know talking isn’t my thing.”

Stiles gave no response. Not even a sarcastic one. Derek would gladly take Stiles’ sarcasm right now… even the barbed version that had emerged in the wake of the nogitsune.

Derek sat on the floor cross-legged and rested his elbows on his knees, not straining to look under the bed and instead speaking to the floor. “Scott told me why you asked for the bite. I think it was the right decision. Just to know for certain that it’s over…” Derek leaned over to glance at Stiles. “And _it is_. If you’re still breathing, then that means it’s _gone_. You did it, Stiles. You _survived_. That’s what matters, not what you look like.” Not what color his eyes flashed.

Stiles didn’t respond, but his breathing slowed somewhat, the racing of his heart steadying just a little. Derek took that as encouragement. Stiles was listening. He was paying attention.

“This is a big change for you, but you won’t go through this alone. You have other wolves to help you. You have Scott and Isaac. You’ve got me. You have a _pack_ , and that makes a big difference. It’s going to be a lot easier for you than it was for Scott. Not that you wouldn’t have done better on your own than he did, anyway. Scott’s an idiot.”

A huff came from under the bed, a sound definitely edging toward amusement.

“You’re going to be fine. You have too many people who love you. What you are now won’t change that.” Derek wished he could make Stiles _feel_ just how true that was, how much it mattered to have family, but it was something you couldn’t fully appreciate until you lost it.

Then again, Stiles had lost his mother… maybe he did get it. At least to some extent.

“I know you feel guilty,” Derek continued softly. “I know you feel… broken. But you’re alive.”

A good friend had _died_ to make sure Stiles lived.

“You have to make it count.”

For Allison.

Stiles held his breath.

“We fought for you because you were worth the fight. We want to _keep_ you. You were worth it, Stiles. Believe that.”

Stiles whimpered.

“You were worth it before, and you’re worth it now. This is the last group to think less of you because of the way you look.”

For a moment there was utter stillness, their two hearts filling an otherwise hollow room, then there was shuffling and scraping from under the bed, the sound of claws catching on carpet as Stiles dragged himself closer to the edge.

Derek sat perfectly still waiting for Stiles to come out.

He was not prepared for the black paws, black snout, and triangular ears that poked out from under the bed.

It was Stiles, but he was no longer human. Not even human-shaped. For half a heartbeat, Derek thought he was a wolf. That by some miracle Stiles had managed the full-shift immediately after being bitten. But then he took a second look and realized he was only half-right. Stiles _had_ done a full-shift, but not into a wolf. Into a _fox_.

Maybe if he’d been bitten before the nogitsune, Stiles would have been a wolf. Or, if by some wild twist of fate he was always destined to be a fox, maybe he would have been a normal copper-coated one. But he was dark and sable, a silver fox.

A dark fox with killer’s eyes.

Sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are. And the person he was had been forever changed by the nogitsune.

“Oh, Stiles…” Derek breathed in sympathy. The broken mirror suddenly made so much sense.

Stiles’ ears pinned against his skull and he shied away, like he was about to slither back under the bed.

“No, hey. It’s all right. Come here,” Derek coaxed.

Stiles looked up at him warily, misery in his blue gaze, then he hauled himself out from under the bed and crouched low to the floor before Derek.

He was much larger than a regular fox, more the size of golden retriever, but the shape was pure fox. He was merely a fox on a larger scale. His legs were thin and coal black, his silver-black tail full with a white tip, his face tapered, his fur smoky and looking soft to the touch.

In all honesty, it was hard for Derek to tear his eyes away from Stiles in his new form.

Derek could understand why becoming a fox after the nightmare with the Japanese fox spirit would be upsetting to Stiles, but Derek didn’t see it quite like that. He was a born wolf from a family famous for achieving the full-shift. It was a rare ability. His mother’s wolf had been breathtaking.

And so was Stiles. Or he would have been if he wasn’t hunkered in on himself like he was trying to disappear, shivering and cowering like he was something hideous. Ugly.

But Derek didn’t think Stiles would take well to being told he was beautiful. All he saw in his new form was that other fox that had made his life a living hell.

“It’s going to be okay,” Derek said instead. When Stiles gave him a dubious side-eye, Derek nodded encouragingly. “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it. I _couldn’t_. I suck at empty platitudes.”

Stiles snorted and his ears twitched. The sense of him became less fraught. His scent reeked less of distress, his breathing eased, and his heartrate calmed.

Derek felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a text.

Stiles’ nearest ear perked to lock on to the sound.

“I told Scott I’d let him know how you’re going.”

Stiles tensed, his body quivering.

“You can’t keep this a secret from him. He’s your best friend. And your alpha.” It didn’t matter if foxes even _had_ alphas; the pack wouldn’t let him be alone. Derek paused, considering Stiles and how freaked out he looked. Maybe because the demon fox had killed Scott’s first love. Maybe he feared that was all Scott would see, too. “But I can tell him you’re not ready to see him yet.”

Stiles sidled closer to Derek, whimpering pleadingly.

Derek nodded. “He doesn’t want you to be left alone, though, and I think he’s right on this. Even if you had turned into a typical beta, it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to be on your own so soon after the bite.” Scott had, but Scott’s introduction to the werewolf world had been screwy from the start. Wrong-footed and isolated and uninformed. It wouldn’t be like that for Stiles. “If you want him to leave, I have to stay. Is that all right?”

Stiles belly-crawled close enough to Derek to rest his chin on his knee.

Derek resisted the temptation to pet Stiles (it was still the same person under the pelt, after all), and he pulled out his phone. He didn’t even bother with texting, instead dialing Scott’s number.

“How is he?” Scott asked at once.

“He’s okay. I think he’s just a little overwhelmed right now. He did a full-shift.”

Scott was speechless a moment. “He’s a _wolf_?”

“He’s a fox.”

“A… but _how_? How can he be a _fox_?”

“How could Jackson be a lizard? Shit like this just happens, Scott.”

Stiles huffed again and shuffled closer, enough to rest more of his head on Derek’s knee.

“I… but… what now?”

“Right now you should go home. Stiles needs some time to adjust, and frankly I don’t think he wants you to see him yet.” Derek didn’t give Scott time to be hurt by that. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay with him.”

Derek could practically feel Scott bristling through the line. “But I can…”

“Let me handle this one. You couldn’t help. What do you know about a full-shift?”

“What do _you_?”

“Besides the fact that it runs in my family and I’ve actually seen it?” And that if Derek had been less of a failure in life, he might have been able to do it, too?

Stiles swished his tail at the sassy rejoinder. Derek could swear he sensed amusement from the fox.

Scott went silent. “Okay… all right, fine. You promise you’ll stay with him?”

“I promise.”

“Okay… okay, well… tell Stiles he has nothing to be ashamed of. Even if he was a lizard, I’d still love him like a brother.”

Stiles tucked his body into a ball, breath escaping with an airy wheeze.

“He knows, Scott. He just needs a little space.”

“Okay… well, call me when you want to leave so I can come back over.”

Stiles harrumphed.

“I don’t think he likes being treated like a toddler,” Derek said with a smirk.

“This has nothing to do with him needing a babysitter, this is about me going gray if I think he’s lonely!”

Stiles took a deep breath, like it was calming to hear just how much Scott McCall still cared. Despite foxes in all their guises.

“I’ll be sure to pass that on. Talk to you later,” Derek bid Scott farewell, then he put his phone back in his pocket and regarded Stiles thoughtfully. The fox was still resting his head on Derek’s knee but almost pointedly not looking up at him. Stiles kind of curled into Derek’s leg like he was seeking warmth. Or like he was desperate for physical touch. It was possible he was. The animal form had different needs than the human one, craved different things or the same things in different intensities.

There was no telling how strongly Stiles was experiencing new feelings as a full-shift fox. He might not even be letting himself experience it fully, too balled up in misery for what he’d become.

“I know you don’t think so, but what you’ve done is incredible.”

Stiles grunted.

“I wish you could understand what it is you’ve accomplished. Maybe you wouldn’t be so upset if you knew.” Among born wolves, the feat was renowned for being extremely difficult to master. Even a lot of wolves with the ability in their bloodline never did it. Wolves like Derek. It was celebrated when a werewolf made the full change.

And Stiles did it as a _bitten_ , immediately after he was turned. What difference did it make what kind of animal he turned into? That he became one at all was unprecedented. Stiles had just gone through hardship that would grind lesser beings into a pulp and he came through the other end _extraordinary_.

But all Stiles saw was a memento of the evil spirit that had possessed him.

With an indignant sneeze, Stiles lifted his head off of Derek’s knee. Derek half-expected him to crawl back under the bed, but instead Stiles climbed into Derek’s lap. The fox stiffened for a second when he seemed to realize what he was doing, but in the next moment he stopped fighting it and just did it. He curled up on Derek’s folded legs (though he hardly fit), tucking his nose under his own tail like he was going to hide from the conversation.

Derek’s hands naturally fell atop Stiles, coming to rest against soft fur and body heat. Stiles stilled at first, like it took him by surprise that Derek would touch him without the intent to shove him away, then relaxed into the touch. Derek stroked his hands carefully down Stiles’ back, marveling at the feel of Stiles’ new form. It was remarkable just for being a full-shift fox, but the act of touching Stiles had an unexpected consequence. It made Derek’s inner wolf want to burst out of his skin, responding to hide and paws with an almost electric energy. The shift danced at the edge of his senses in a way it never had before, itching like a thunderstorm under his skin, and Derek wondered if Stiles’ shift could push his own. It sounded crazy, but Derek almost felt like he could become a wolf just to match the fox in his lap.

He ached to try. His mother’s blood sang in his veins, taunting him with the transformation if he would only be bold enough to reach for it. It had never felt so close before.

He didn’t realize he was shaking until Stiles sat up in his lap and looked him in the eye, whimpering in concern.

Derek gave a cracked smile and smoothed his hands down either side of Stiles’ muzzle. But it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to nuzzle and lick, greet him like a wolf, _as_ a wolf. “You’re driving my wolf nuts, Stiles.”

Stiles cocked his head. If he had eyebrows, one would probably be raised.

Derek buried his hands in the longer fur at Stiles’ throat, wondered why Stiles _let_ him do it, and took a deep breath to get a hold of himself. He had to get it together. He was here for Stiles. _He_ had to be the one offering comfort and being attentive and grounding, not the kid whose life had just changed forever after a bite from his werewolf best friend.

Stiles wiggled out of Derek’s hold and nudged at his jaw, whining.

“I’m okay.”

But Derek had broken into a sweat.

Stiles nipped him on the chin as if to say ‘no, you’re _not_ ’.

Derek gently shoved Stiles’ teeth away without dislodging the fox from his lap. “It’s fine.”

Stiles yipped in annoyance and glowered at Derek. The blue of his eyes faded, giving way to the amber-whiskey brown underneath that was pure Stiles. It felt like Stiles was more in control, like he’d wrested mastery of his shape away from the animal to focus on Derek. And that was impressive, too.

As was his ability to talk Derek into spilling his guts without having the ability to even form words. Who knew a piercing look from a fox could be so persuasive and demanding?

“Something about you like this… it’s making me want to shift.” Like Stiles was fluent in an exotic language Derek could never speak in such a clumsy form… like he needed to trade flesh for fur to be part of Stiles’ new world.

Stiles stilled and looked curious. But curious was an improvement over miserable and self-loathing. Like a puzzle to figure out was exactly what his overactive mind needed to distract himself from his new vulpine shape. He stared unblinking at Derek with a look that seemed to rip past all his defenses. It was unsettling and just agitated the wolf even more.

“Ignore me,” Derek said with a forced smile, firmly shoving his wolf to the back of his mind, uncertain if it would stay there. “This isn’t about me. I’m here to help you in any way I can.”

Stiles ducked his head, looking sheepish, then he glanced up at Derek then away. Up and away. Like he wanted to do something but doubted himself. Or he was embarrassed. Like instinct and reason were at war within him. Even in his beta-shift a werewolf could feel that conflict. It drove bitten werewolves to near-madness during their first full moons. Derek couldn’t imagine how strong that inner struggle would be in full-shift.

“Don’t fight your instincts,” Derek instructed. “Whatever they’re telling you to do, it’s okay. This is a huge adjustment for you, even bigger than what happened to Scott. You’re probably feeling a lot of instincts pulling you to do things you wouldn’t dream of doing when you were human. Fighting it will only make it harder to ignore. So go with it.”

Stiles whined, lithe body locking up like he was holding himself back from moving.

“Don’t worry, Stiles. I won’t have any trouble controlling you if you lose control.” Although truthfully, blood-thirsty rampage was not how Stiles seemed to be meeting this new chapter in his life. Still, if Stiles had concerns about hurting people, he need not. Derek wouldn’t let him.

“I can’t let you leave the house like this, but other than that do whatever you feel like you need to. For the next twenty-four hours, I promise I won’t judge anything you do. So if you want to go pee in all the corners of the house, go for it. I’ll clean it up later.”

Stiles gave him a withering look, bared his teeth just to get his point across, then he pressed chest-to-chest into Derek and rubbed his head into the crook of Derek’s neck.

“ _Oh_.”

Stiles leaned heavily against the werewolf, shamelessly rubbing his scent all over him. And why should he be ashamed? Derek had just said he would forgive Stiles anything while he was still so new to his fox.

Normally, Derek would be fine to let him, except…

Except adrenaline and endorphins crashed through Derek’s system like a tsunami, flooding his senses and filling his chest to bursting with this great explosion he was holding in at his own peril. His body screamed for freedom, for release. Something inside him wanted to break free. He felt like he might float off the floor and grabbed at Stiles without thinking to anchor himself.

Oh.

 _OH_.

“ _Stiles_ …” Derek pleaded, not even sure what he was pleading for. He was going to crack open if this kept on, though, of that he was sure. He would split in half and he wasn’t sure what would come spilling out.

Stiles wiggled against Derek, trying to get even closer.

“You… you need to stop…” Derek panted.

Stiles whined and side-stepped out of Derek’s lap.

Derek rolled after him and ended up on his knees and elbows, braced against the floor. It felt like lava had replaced his blood. Sweat poured off him. He felt like he was on fire.

Stiles circled him, nosing at his hip, his side, his cheek.

Derek peeled out of his shirt and went onto his hands and knees. His body ached as bones started to shift beyond his control.

Stiles weaved between his limbs, under his belly, a fretful and constant presence.

Derek reached out to touch him on one pass. “I’m fine… it’ll go away. Just… give me a minute.” He could control it. He could. He hadn’t lost control of his wolf in years. He wasn’t some hapless bitten.

Stiles growled and ducked under Derek’s body, taking the waistband of his jeans in his teeth and yanking.

“Hey!” Derek swatted at him.

Stiles leaped sideways and gave Derek a stubborn look from a few paces away. He looked strangely at home in his shape now without his attention on himself. Like he had been poised and prone to embrace an animal form if he could only get past the idea that he was a reflection of the demon.

Derek’s joints ached with the need to shift. For once he was afraid to… he wasn’t sure what he’d turn into when he did. It was too much to hope he’d be like his mother. After what he’d done – after Paige, after being the reason his family burned – he wouldn’t be surprised if his full-shift was more kanima than canine. Surely if he was destined to become a wolf, it wouldn’t hurt this much. The change had never torn him apart like this before.

Stiles darted back in and leaned into Derek, their sides pressed together. Derek glanced over at him and when Stiles had his attention he looked downward pointedly. When he did it twice, Derek let his eyes follow. Stiles had put his paw next to Derek’s splayed hand. The contrast, paw to hand, was deliberate.

Derek jerked away. “I don’t know if I even _can_ …” His mother could, but if he was capable shouldn’t it have happened by now?

Stiles yowled and tugged at Derek’s jeans again like the denim was offensive.

“ _Okay_ ,” Derek growled, mostly because he needed to get the rest of his clothes off before he burst into flames. He kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks, then struggled out of his jeans and underwear. He was too close to boiling to care about modesty, too near the melting point to worry about nudity in front of Stiles. Every stitch of fabric was unbearable, every thread nothing more than a flashpoint for sparks to catch and turn him into a pyre. Instead, he fell flat on his back on the floor with a yelp, naked and drenched in sweat. He writhed as he felt his organs moving, his ribs trying to reshape inside his chest.

Fuck, this was _not_ what he’d come to Stiles’ house to do. Scott was counting on him to be focused on Stiles, to be a friend for the traumatized teen to lean on, and instead he was trying to keep himself from tearing apart in the boy’s bedroom.

Stiles crowded in close to his side, looking worried.

“ _Careful_ ,” Derek warned, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” But he could say for certain that something _was_ going to happen. It seemed like his body wouldn’t allow for anything else at this point.

The fireball building inside him exploded. Derek yelled and curled onto his side, trying to hold his organs in. Heat raced through him, warped where it touched, swept through him like an inferno. If he was dying, it made sense he would burn from the inside out. He deserved no less.

He clenched his eyes shut so he wouldn’t see the flames swallow him.

It was all heat and pain and change, and then suddenly it all stopped.

Derek lay panting and shaking, afraid to move. He might have stayed there all night if a wet nose hadn’t prodded him in the side.

Derek opened his eyes to see Stiles before him, squirming and antsy with… _excitement_?

Derek tried to sit up. Nothing was where it should be, and he ended up flailing and scrambling before he got his limbs under himself. He stood up shakily and looked down at black legs ending in black paws. He threw a look over his shoulder and saw a black coat and the barest hint of his tail.

He’d done a full-shift. He was a _wolf_.

A yip snapped Derek’s attention back to Stiles, who rushed in to smell him. Derek stood still, legs braced wide, and let Stiles circle him, nosing and sniffing him all over. When Stiles came close enough, Derek dropped his head to sniff in return. This form had an even keener sense of smell. It gave a new depth to Stiles, like Derek was that much closer to catching the scent of his soul.

While Derek’s head was lowered, Stiles mouthed at Derek’s ear. Derek drew back and looked sternly at Stiles. Stiles just stood before him and looked oddly smug. _Proud_.

And as well he should. Derek had only managed a full-shift because of Stiles. Something about Stiles achieving the full-shift had pulled Derek over to the other side with him. And from the gleam in his eyes, Stiles knew that.

Derek could live with Stiles bragging and boastful if it meant he didn’t see himself as a curse. If he could see the fox as a gift instead of a stain left behind by a murderous trickster.

To make sure of it, Derek stepped forward and licked Stiles full in the face.

Stiles let loose a strangled sound in surprise, staring wide-eyed at Derek… then something in him seemed to snap and he bounded forward to lick Derek’s jowls in return. Derek huffed and hooked Stiles under his chin and pinned him against his body. Derek’s wolf was larger than Stiles’ fox; it was easy to tuck him in against his chest, even if Stiles had to duck a little to fit there.

Stiles leaned into him, sable and black fur blending together in glorious shades. Dark shades, yes… but not sinister.

When Derek let Stiles go, it was to jump up on the bed. He found a spot, circled, and lay down. Then he looked down over the side of the bed at Stiles, who was sitting in the center of the room and watching him. Derek planted one paw on the bed in front of him and made an impatient noise.

It was enough for Stiles to understand him.

Stiles jumped up on the bed after him and circled Derek, seemingly studying the situation. Derek stretched out enough to open a spot for him. Stiles nestled down beside Derek, tight against his belly, and when he was curled in a ball Derek wrapped himself around Stiles as much as he could. His tail folded over the fox’s hind legs and Derek’s head came to rest next to Stiles’.

Stiles eyed Derek surreptitiously, lifted his head to swipe his tongue over Derek’s muzzle, then he settled his head back down cheek-to-cheek with Derek.

Derek felt like things were settling into a new realm of okay. One they had all been searching for but never seemed to attain since the nogitsune turned their town into a killing field. Because even after the demon was gone, it had felt like they were all damaged vessels listing after a war. Gaping wounds and bruises without recourse.

That all changed tonight.

Stiles had given Derek this. The wolf was a gift he would cherish. He would make sure Stiles appreciated his fox just as much. Because the fox wasn’t a twisted shadow of the nogitsune, it wasn’t an echo of the void, it was _Stiles_. He’d become so much more than his scars.

Derek was going to see to it that Stiles _loved_ being a fox.

 

END


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